


A Breach of Trust

by JayWrites



Series: Breach of Trust [1]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF
Genre: AU!Tom Hiddleston - Freeform, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/M, Fingering, Loss of Virginity, Oral Sex, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, prof!tom, professor!tom, sexy fun times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-06
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-19 19:12:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2399675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayWrites/pseuds/JayWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Professor Hiddleston ignores both protocol and his own good judgment and gives in to a student's seduction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> breach of trust - n. any act which is in violation of the duties or a trustee or of the terms of a trust. Such a breach need not be intentional or with malice, but can be due to negligence.

He never thought he would be here. With her. Not in a million years (as the old cliché went). But when she first stormed into his classroom (nearly ten minutes late) that Monday morning, out of breath and apologizing profusely (hoping for sympathy like freshmen often do); he was so caught off guard that he almost lost his composure.

She was stunningly beautiful for one. He spent the next two months trying, and failing, to ignore the way her hips swayed calling his eyes to them when she walked. Or how her breasts bounced or rose and fell when she breathed. And he laughed at himself once or twice for envying the way her jeans hugged her round ass. Never in his life had he wanted to be a pair of pants so badly.

It wasn’t just her physical beauty that enticed him. She was the sharpest student in the class. He often found himself eagerly awaiting to read her essays (even if he didn’t always agree with her); and her insightful interpretation of the source material made the academic in him weep. After class, they would often have long conversations over whatever material they were currently discussing in the lecture.

Because she had no afternoon classes on the days they would meet and he had an hour free between his, they would often continue their conversations while walking the campus. Once or twice they even grabbed lunch in the student union. It wasn’t so odd to see a teacher bonding with their students but usually this was done in groups not on a one on one basis; and for this reason, she began bringing her own lunch and they would find some quiet place on campus to eat and talk.

He really should have been more careful.

When she hugged him the first time a couple of weeks ago after one of their lunches, he found himself holding his breath so he would not inhale that sweet strawberry smell that made him want to attempt to lick the flavor off of her. He also found himself restraining from wrapping his arms around her tight and pulling her closer to him so that he could better feel the softness of her body on his.

He should have also been careful at the frequency of these hugs. Everyday for the last week and a half their rendezvous would end with her arms wrapped around his body. It had become so routine that his cock twitched at the sound of the container she kept her lunch in snapping close before she rose and sweetly said, “Well…I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Professor Hiddleston,” before outstretching her arms.

And he should have been especially careful when a soft, almost chaste kiss, was added to those hugs a couple of days ago. He should have nipped it in the bud then and there. Instead he found himself cupping her face in his hand and kissing her deeply as if he was trying to suck her soul out through her mouth. He only came to his senses when his semi-erect cock nudged her in the stomach. His hands dropped from her face immediately as his embarrassment caused him to stutter out a string of apologies and grab and cover himself with his attaché case before (nearly) sprinting all the way across campus to his office.

He felt like some inexperienced teenager instead of the thirty-three year old man he was. All logic and self control left him when it came to her.

For example, if any other student had came into his office late on a Friday afternoon, sat on the edge of his desk, and ran her hands up his thigh…he would have jumped up immediately and kicked them out after scolding then like an errant child. But because it was her and because he had been praying for her to touch him like that from the moment she stumbled into the classroom, he ignored both common sense and university protocol and let her continue.

He said nothing (outside of a moan or two) as her plump lips hungrily met his or when they traveled down his neck as she palmed his quickly hardening cock through his slacks.

He ignored the nagging voice in his head that reminded him of the student/teacher boundary they were crossing when she freed his cock from his pants and kissed and licked at the tip of it before running her tongue down his shaft; or when she started stroking him with one hand as her head bobbed up and down his length.

In that moment he didn’t care that he was breaking the professional code of conduct. Neither did he care about the sounds of people talking in the hall outside his door. They could come in any moment, since she hadn’t closed the door behind her, and find them there—with his head thrown back groaning in pleasure as one hand rested on the back of her head—and he didn’t give a shit.

He only cared about how good her mouth felt wrapped around his thickness. About how she would hum at his taste. About how every now and again she would pull him out of her mouth with a “pop,” a tiny drool of spit catching on her lips, and lazily stroke his cock while her other hand reached under her dress to rub circles around her clit before, once again, wrapping her lips around around him and bobbing and sucking him.

The only words he said were a whispered warning of “I’m about to come” before he coated the back of her throat with his seed. Followed by a quick “oh shit!” as she continued to suck him dry.

She stood and adjusted her clothing as he fell back in his chair. She smiled at him and, before he could speak, she planted another kiss on his lips. God…he loved the taste of his come on her lips. He brought his hand to the back of her head and jutted his tongue into her mouth to taste more of it.

When they finally pulled away from each other, she turned to exit his office. She stopped in the door frame, looked back at him and smiled. “See you same time on Monday, Professor Hiddleston.” She winked at him and then she was gone as quickly and quietly as when she had entered; leaving him dazed and, for the first time in his life, anxious for the weekend to pass.


	2. When Monday Comes...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My Prof!Tom and my face claim for Malia.  
> 

Monday came slowly. Painfully so. Never in his life had he wished a weekend would end.

He spent the rest of his Friday afternoon not sure if the events that took place in his office really happened or not. Maybe he had dreamed it. He had wanted her so badly that he imagined the entire situation.

No. It had most definitely happened. He could still feel her lips on his or wrapped around his cock. He could still hear the slurping sound as her head bobbed up and down his member.

Saturday was no better. To take his mind off her, he decided to grade his Freshman Composition tests. He dreaded reading freshman English papers. Many students simply did not know how to write. They couldn’t tell the difference between a noun and a verb if he literally wrote it down for them and begged them to regurgitate it back to him. And by the time he finished three comp classes worth of tests (roughly 130-150 students) he always had a throbbing headache that the strongest glass of scotch couldn’t soothe.

She was one of the few bright spots in his classes. Maybe thirty students total made him feel as if either he (or the American education system) hadn’t completely failed. When he finally came to her test he took a moment to admire the way she wrote her name in cursive: Malia Givens. Such delicate handwriting. Delicate…like the way she gently rubbed up his thigh.

Oh god no…

He tried to shake the memory away. He still had so many tests to wade through and couldn’t allow himself to get distracted by the memory of her. Yet the harder he tried to push her out of his thoughts the more she invaded them. He pictured her standing before him in all her naked glory, rubbing her large round breasts, and begging for him to touch her. His cock twitched at the image and he had no choice but to alleviate himself or else he would never finish grading. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his hardening cock through his sweats and imagined her now crawling towards him. Her eyes on him as she ran her hands up his thighs; her plump lips parting to beg him, “Fuck me, professor…”

His mouth dropped open slightly as he stroked his cock while imagining her sucking him off. He closed his eyes and recalled how delicious she looked with him in her mouth; a mixture of innocence and seduction in her eyes. The shrill ring of his cell jarred him from his fantasy. He mumbled to himself as he hit the “ignore” button—sending the call to voicemail—before closing his eyes again.

Now he pictured her sitting on the desk in his classroom, legs splayed out, with her fingers slowly pumping in and out of herself. “Please, professor…,” she said. “Fuck me.”

Around her he saw the room was now filled with people who egged him on. “Fuck her! Fuck her hard,” the voices chanted. He continued to stroke himself faster as he fantasized about grabbing Malia and slamming into her. His name falling from her lips as he thrust into her over and over.

“Yes…,” he mumbled at the image of her legs wrapping around him; her fingernails clawing down his bare back; the onlookers cheering with approval. He tightened his grasp on his cock and pictured her orgasming underneath him. God…he wished he knew what she actually felt like. How wet she could get; how tight she was; how she moaned as he drove himself deeper into her; how she looked when she came undone.

He gritted his teeth as he fervently stroked himself trying to draw his orgasm out. He could feel it building in his lower abdomen. He was so close…so close… Until the sound of his cell ringing, once again, diverted his attention.

God have mercy on whoever was on the other end of that call… He hit the “answer” button without looking at the name or number and breathed out a terse, “What?”

“Darling! It’s mum. Why do you sound so out of breath?”

Tom swallowed the agitation that hung in his throat before fishing for a lie. “I’m okay…I was just…running for the phone…”

He spent the rest of the evening listening to her complain about his father (he was spending too much time at the pub, as usual) and her “friend” and neighbor Mary Louise Bosworth-Smythe (“She cheats at backgammon, you know…”); about how the Labour Party was going to ruin the country (“Just a bunch of thugs in three-piece suits, if you ask me.”); and the state of her rose gardens (“You really must see them, Thomas! They are quite lovely this year!”). When the call finally ended, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. No longer able to conjure an image of Malia to masturbate to, he instead went to bed and lamented his lost orgasm.

Sunday proved to be just as frustrating as the previous day. His night had been filled with a restless sleep that left him groggy and ill-tempered throughout the rest of the day. The chores he hadn’t finished the day before were awaiting him the moment he entered the living room: unfolded laundry, un-swept floor, the dishes he had managed to pile up throughout the week, and he had been meaning to clean out the back of his goddamn car for almost a month. His mother often complained that he still lived like a college student instead of like the thirty-three year old he was. His mother…. His face soured at the mention of her. Truthfully, he was to blame. He knew she called bi-weekly like clockwork and would not be ignored. He was just so caught up thinking about Malia.

Every time her pretty face appeared in his mind he resisted the urge to touch himself. If he could get through the day he could spend the rest of his evening fantasizing about her. But his Sunday was a tedious one. First there was the University fundraiser that he was mandated to attend in the late afternoon. Nearly two and a half hours of schmoozing and making conversation with prestigious alumni. He could only pretend to care about their often ultra-conservative opinions on the state of the affairs of the country for so long (especially since he was in the country on a work visa and couldn’t vote anyway).

After the fundraiser he returned home, hoping to finally have his afternoon to himself; yet, he was barely in the apartment for five minutes before receiving a text from Dr. Lewis reminding him of his turn to supervise the weekly study session. That took another three hours (and his remaining patience).

When he finally arrived back at his apartment sometime after nine he couldn’t go straight to bed like he wanted. He still had at least thirty ungraded tests. No to mention, he had to, yet again, edit his syllabus. Majority of the class still hadn’t grasped Romanticism. “But Professor Hiddleston,” a student, Casey Albright, asked once, “None of these books you assigned has _any_ romance in them!” (He could acutely remember the sound of the other students tittering as he rested his head against the white board with an audible “THUMP” before he dismissed them).

He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed the bridge of his nose while remembering the utter frustration of grading her test yesterday. At one point he just stopped and wrote on the front page in large red print: “FROM NOW ON IT IS MANDATORY THAT YOU ATTEND THE WEEKLY STUDY SESSIONS!”

It was past midnight when he lazily dragged himself into the bed. The only bright spot of his day was Malia’s face smiling and beckoning him to a lustful sleep.

\-----------------

It seemed as if Monday morning sought to torture him like his weekend had.

His morning classes dragged by slowly. He was certain his students didn’t give a good shit about whatever the lecture was on—neither did he, honestly. No one was in less of a mood to analysis Faulkner’s _As I Lay Dying_ or Shakespeare’s _King Lear_ than he was. Sometimes he wondered if the students knew how often their professors equally despised looking at their dull faces on a daily basis.

After his classes came his eleven o’clock department meeting. He spent the entire forty five minute meeting repeatedly glancing at his watch and anxiously tapping his foot under the table. When the department head asked him a question he nodded in agreement, although he had no idea what the man had just asked of him. His only concern was for his twelve thirty class—a class that, up until a few days ago, he dreaded to attend.

He found himself rushing back to his office to mist on a fresh layer of his cologne (not too much but just enough to draw her close) and re-brush his short black hair before pausing to let out an “ehehehe” at his actions. _You’re not going to meet the queen, Thomas_ , he told himself. _But still…_ He readjusted his tie and smoothed the lapels on his suit before taking one last glance at himself in the small mirror that sat on the bookshelf in his office. He removed his black rimmed glass and took a cloth out of his suit pocket and wiped them clear of smudges.

He strolled (almost skipped) to the building his class was housed in. He found himself grinning profusely as he prepared for the lecture. He looked at his watch. 12:21 p.m. In less than nine minutes his students would be filing into the room. In less than nine minutes _she_ would be there. Sitting in the middle of the class room; her brown eyes darting from his face to the PowerPoint on the overhead before finally resting back on her notes. And an hour from then, she would be all his.

\-----------------

Malia slowly packed up her things while she waited for Casey Albright to finish her discussion with Prof. Hiddleston about her test score.

“I just don’t understand how I could get an incomplete!”

Tom put his head in his hands and exhaled a huff. “For the tenth time, Ms. Albright…you tried to answer the first question with Hemingway’s _A Farewell to Arms_ …”

Casey flipped a lock of her long blonde hair. “So! What’s wrong with that?”

“We’re discussing Fitzgerald’s _Gatsby!_ If you had come to class or looked over the study guide I posted online or even actually _studied_ you would’ve known that.”

“Whatever,” she mumbled as she rolled her eyes and stuffed the test into her large shoulder bag. “I’m still not going to that study session. I’m not going to waste my weekend…”

Tom groaned. “Then don’t come! If you don’t want to pass Freshman Composition…I don’t really give a shit at this point.” Casey’s mouth dropped open in surprise at the increase in Tom’s tone as well as him swearing. He cleared his thought and tried to calmly continue, “I’m sorry, Ms. Albright. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that. But it is now mandatory for you to attend the study sessions. We have brilliant student tutors, as well as myself, that are willing to help you. I know you really don’t want to fail the rest of this semester, do you?” He gave her a weak smile but she only rolled her eyes in response.

“Whatever,” she said before turning to the exit. She made a face at Malia who put her hands up in protest and stepped aside to allow Casey to leave.

When she left, Tom slumped over the podium and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why do I still teach?”

“Because of the perks,” Malia answered sweetly.

“What perks,” Tom grumbled; still massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Well…this.” She ran her hand up his arm and smiled at the fact that she could feel his lean muscles through the fabric of his clothes. She unbuttoned his suit jacket and ran her hands up his chest and clasped the back of his neck. She pulled him close to her so she could kiss him but Tom pulled away.

“No. Not here. Someone could come in.”

A sly smile grew in the corner of her mouth. “You didn’t say that Friday.”

He couldn’t help but smile at the comment. “Well, to be fair, you caught me off guard with that one but I suppose…” he looked at the door and, when he saw that the hall was empty, allowed himself to wrap an arm around her waist and pull her close to him. He kissed her hard and hungry; his lips had been begging to taste hers again all weekend.

She stuck her tongue in his mouth and he moaned at the taste of her. Their tongues licked and wrestled with each other while his hands roamed down to her ass. He squeezed her cheeks causing her to let out a “mmmm” against his mouth. He pulled away from her—a thin line of spit hung on both their lips—and said, “I want you.”

Those three words nearly took Malia’s breath away. “Here,” she asked biting her lip.

“Yes.” He dragged her to the desk that sat in the front of the classroom, picked her up and placed her on the edge of it. He kissed her hard again; this time raking his teeth across her mouth. He pulled away and began working on the buttons on her jeans.

“Do you…do you have something because I’m not on anything,” she asked and he could hear a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Um…yeah. Hold on.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. He opened it and pulled out a shiny golden condom wrapper. “I stopped by the pharmacy this morning. It was on my way.” It wasn’t. The closest pharmacy was nearly fifteen minutes out of his way.

“Great,” Malia said grinning. He kissed her again, this time moving to nibble on her neck, while she unbuckled his belt. He ran his large hands up her thighs before coming to the edge of her shirt and lifting it up to expose her red lace bra. He ran his hand over her right breast and could feel her nipple getting hard through the fabric. She groaned in pleasure at the feeling of him touching her. “I’m so glad I waited for you,” she breathlessly whispered.

Tom’s mouth and hand’s froze at the words. He pulled back and looked her in the eye. “What do you mean…you waited for me?”

“Well…I’m a virgin,” she answered before tucking a strand of her curly brown hair behind her ear. “Why? Is that a problem?”

Tom ran his hand down his face. “Jesus Christ…Please tell me you’re joking.”

“No…,” she laughed at the accusation. “Why would I joke about that?”

He turned from her and inhaled large gasps of air as he adjusted his semi-erect cock. He buckled his pants while saying, “I just think that’s something you tell a person, is all.”

“I just told you. What is the big damn deal, Professor?”

“Right! I am your professor,” he turned to her and forked a hand through his black hair. “Do you even realize what almost happened here? Jesus…I almost…deflowered you!”

“‘ _Deflowered_ me,’” Malia’s face soured at the word.

“Yes! I almost took your virginity! You have _no_ idea the things…,” he paused. He had no intention of detailing the absolutely vulgar things he wanted to do to her on that desk. She broke into a fit of laughter. “Don’t laugh at me, Malia.”

“I’m sorry,” she said sweetly after covering her mouth to calm her laughter. “I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just…you’re not gonna _take_ my virginity. I’m _giving_ it to you. There’s a difference.”

“Okay…maybe you’re right. But…we really shouldn’t be doing this anyway. I think it would be for the best if you leave now...”

“Oh, no, Professor…” he swallowed hard at the soft way she said his title. “…don’t try to take the high road on me. You want me. Shit, you fucking _said_ you did. And even if you didn’t,” she looked down at his crotch, “the body don’t lie.” She scoffed. “You come walking up in here looking like you straight stepped out of GQ, smelling damn good—what’s the name of that cologne, Professor, I don’t remember you ever wearing it before— _plus_ you have a wallet full of condoms…You want something to happen just as badly as I do.”

He tensed his jaw at her comments and looked away. She smiled at his actions and hopped off the desk. “I don’t know why you’re suddenly pulling away,” she walked up to him; enclosing the distance between them. She gently tugged at his tie. “But I don’t give up on what I want. And, in case you still haven’t figured it out yet, Professor...I want _you _.__ ” She pulled him down to meet her with his tie and planted a kiss on his lips that made his cock twitch. “And I always get what I want.”

His eyes fell to her full lips and, before he could stop himself, he ran his thumb along her bottom lip. She smiled. “Now how about we cut the bullshit and go grab lunch.”

“I’m, uh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m not really hungry.”

“Neither am I, Professor. ‘Lunch’ was code for ‘take me back to your apartment…and eat me.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah more smut is coming but I had to break up this chapter because it was getting very long.  
> Also, lol at that chapter title! I'm so bad at naming stuff.


	3. Ambrosia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this chapter is good. I barely proofread it. I'm sorry. :(

When Malia first entered his tiny apartment she had commented that it looked like a library exploded inside. His collection of books were nearly piled high to the ceiling or in various boxes littered about his apartment. He had brought a cheap do-it-yourself bookshelf when he first moved in two years ago but he never actually got around to setting it up. It now rested in the back of his closet along with the previous occupier’s old Christmas decorations.

He watched her as she inspected his apartment; silently wishing that he had done at least _some_ home improvement. That bookshelf would look really good in the corner next to his television. If he had known she was going to invite herself over, he would have made his dingy little apartment look like it was somewhat worthy of her presence. “This is a really cute apartment,” she said after a long silence. She gently drummed her fingers on the back of his couch. “Is it all yours?”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, do you have roommates or something?”

“Oh! No, no. This is ‘all mine,’” he said with a pleased smile.

“Well, I like it.” She smiled broadly and he wasn’t sure if she was being genuine or polite but he decided not to dwell on it. Instead he watched as she crossed to the corner of the room.

“Have you read all of these,” she asked inspecting a tower of books.

“More or less,” Tom replied. “Some I haven’t read in ages, though.” She nodded and bent over to dig through one of the boxes. He tilted his head to one side and admired her ass. He licked his lips as he wondered what how she looked undressed. He wanted nothing more than to run his hands over every inch or her body, to taste her, to drive himself deep within her. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from touching himself or her.

He was so engrossed in his imagination that he hadn’t noticed her rise, a book in hand, and turn to him. “What are you looking at,” she asked with a sly smile.

He cleared his throat as her voice brought him back to reality. “Uh, nothing. Wh-what have you got there?”

Malia wouldn’t be deterred by his sudden change of subject. She sauntered up to him; his eyes involuntarily fell to her hips and he exhaled as she stopped mere inches from him. “It’s a book, Professor,” she answered coyly. “A collection of Poe. I love him.”

“Yeah, he’s…pretty…intense,” he said while watching her full lips.

She leaned her large chest against him as she brought an arm around his neck. “I like intense.” She brought her face closer to his; causing their lips to slightly graze. His breathing slowed and he removed his hands from the safety of his pockets and drummed the tips along his thighs. “Don’t you,” she asked before licking his lips. He gasped at the action and balled his fists causing his nails to press into his palm. She giggled before turning away from him and returning the book to the pile she got it from.

Tom closed his eyes and swallowed hard. _She shouldn’t be here,_ his mind screamed at him. _Take her back to campus and end this now!_ Yet his body wouldn’t listen. He walked up to her and ran his hands over her hips. He laid his head in her dark brown curls and inhaled her scent. Today she smelled like a mixture of fruit but he wasn’t sure which ones. Was it mango or pineapple? Coconut perhaps? Whichever it was, he found it intoxicating. He closed his eyes and took another strong inhale and said, “You really shouldn’t tease me like that, Malia,” on the exhale.

She giggled again and curved her ass into his crotch. “Why not, Professor?” She heard him let out a low growl and it sent a shiver of excitement up her spine.

“You know why not,” he replied tensely while grinding his ever growing erection against her. His mind warned him, _No, Thomas. Stop this now. Step back and take a deep breath. Before this goes any farther_. Yet, it was already too late. She was already here in his apartment, looking and smelling absolutely delicious and pressing that glorious body of hers against his. His hand found the front of her pants. He unbuttoned them and ran his hand over the band of her underwear.

 _Do not go any further!_ She leaned her head back and whispered, “Touch me, Professor.” How could he deny her? This eager pupil in his arms begging and willing to learn.

“Spread your legs.” She bit her lips and took a wider stance. He brought two fingers to his mouth and sucked on them. When they were perfectly wet, he returned his hand between her legs and inserted them between the folds of her pussy. She was already wet. She moaned as he rubbed tiny circles on her clit before dropping his hand lower and inserting both fingers inside her causing her to shudder.

He pumped his fingers in and out of her slowly. “Oh, god, yes…,” she mumbled as her hand came down to cover his. Her hips gently bucked against his fingers.

“Do you still want me to taste you,” he whispered in her ear. She nodded and he ran his tongue up the side of her neck before gently biting the part where her neck and shoulder met. She quivered at the sensation. “Say it again, Malia. Say what you said to me in the classroom.”

She could barely focus with the onslaught of new sensations her body was feeling let alone remember what she said to him nearly twenty minutes ago. “I-I said…”

“You wanted me to bring you here and do what? Say it, Malia. Like you did before.”

“Eat me,” she breathlessly said above a whisper.

She whimpered when Tom removed his hand from between her thighs. “Look at me.” She turned to face him. They locked eyes and he slowly licked her juices off his fingers. Her mouth fell open at the sight. Before she could say anything he grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her towards his bedroom.

He grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. He licked his lips at the sight of her brown nipples peaking through the sheer fabric of her red lace bra. He ran a thumb over her right breast and smiled when it hardened under his touch. She closed her eyes and sighed at the feeling.

“Are you sure,” he asked still caressing her breast.

Malia stepped back and unhooked her bra baring her full chest to him. She pulled her pants off her hips followed by her matching red boy shorts. She stepped out of her rumpled clothes and sat on the bed. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. Please…touch me, Professor.”

Tom took a moment to take in her naked form. She was even more beautiful than he imagined. Her chestnut colored skin nearly glowing against his dull white spread. Her round breasts begging to be touched and tasted. Her shapely thighs parted just enough so that he can see the lips of her pussy glossed with her wetness. His mouth fell agape as he did the only thing one in his position could do—he fell to his knees before her.

He gently pulled her to the edge of the bed before putting both legs on his shoulders. He ran his fingers down her wet folds before using his thumb to separate them. Her back arched instinctively at the feeling of his tongue flicking her clit. Her breathing grew ragged as he skillfully licked and kissed her pussy.

He only stopped to momentarily murmur out, “You taste…so…good…” before tracing his tongue further down and jutting it inside her.

Her legs instinctively jerked up when he did so. She grabbed the back of one knee as her head fell back. “Pro-professor!” His hands gently kneaded her ass as his tongue continued to lap up her juices. He ground his hips against the mattress to alleviate his aching cock.

He pulled away from her and she whimpered missing his tongue immediately. He stuck two fingers in her and pumped furiously while he sucked on her clit. “Oh my god…,” she called out while grabbing a handful of his short black hair with one hand and the other caressed the back of his neck. Her body jerked as her orgasm shot through her. But Tom didn’t stop licking or sucking her and he continued to hook his fingers into her bringing on a seemingly endless wave of orgasms—one after the other.

“Please, Professor…no more,” she whined as a tear hung in the corner of her eye.

He kissed the lips of her pussy and smiled at her pleading before removing his fingers and sucking her off them. He climbed on top of her, his erection pressing into her abdomen, and kissed her; allowing her to taste herself on his tongue. She was initially surprised at the new flavor but soon found herself enjoying it. She brought her hand behind his head to better taste herself. She let out an “mmmm…” against his lips.

Tom pulled back and ran his thumb along her bottom lip. She caught it between her lips and began to suck on it. Her eyes were low and filled with an odd mixture of lust and innocence. He couldn’t help but to kiss her again. He sucked on her bottom lip as he cupped one side of her face in his hand. She ran her hand up his arm and shoulder before reaching under him and grabbing at the belt of his pants.

“What do you think you’re doing, Malia,” he asked with a sly smile.

“Well…I think it’s only fair that I help you relieve this.” She palmed his erection through his slacks causing him to suck in a breath of air.

He leaned his forehead against hers and closed his eyes. “I’d love nothing more than that but,” he looked at his watch, “I don’t think we have the time. I have a class in twenty. Besides,” he pecked her on the forehead, “ _this_ …was a ‘thank you’ for Friday.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Oh, anytime, Professor. Anytime.” She nuzzled against him and he resisted the urge to give into her again. He wanted nothing more than to lie in bed with her for the rest of the day—his face between her legs; her calling out for him while she repeatedly came around his tongue or fingers—but, unfortunately, he couldn’t. Professional duties called him.

“Come on,” he helped her off the bed. “Let’s get you cleaned up before I take you back to campus.” She worked on his belt buckle the moment she rose from the bed. “Malia…,” he started but she silenced him with a “shh.” She freed his stiff cock and immediately began to stroke him. “Please…,” he whispered at the feeling of her hand on him.

“What?” Her tone was innocent but her face held a devilish smile. “Just think of it as…extra credit.” He leaned his head back and dropped his mouth open as she frantically jacked him off. She fell to her knees and licked from the base of his cock to the tip. She took him into her mouth and began to bob along his length.

He placed his hand on the back of her head and lightly bucked his hips making himself go deeper into her mouth. “Ah…,” he let out as he began to fuck her face. He could feel his orgasm building in his abdomen. He yelled out, “Fuck!” and gritted his teeth as his cock twitched and he came in the back of her throat.

She licked the last of his come off the tip before rising with a satisfied smile and saying, “Now, Professor,” she wiped the side of her mouth, “How ‘bout that shower?”

He swallowed, giving much needed moisture to his dry throat, and nodded before gently guiding her to the bathroom. _This girl_ , he thought as he removed his clothes and turned on the shower, _is going to be the death of me._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...I'm still shit at naming things lol.


	4. “Is it worth the risk, Professor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is REALLY short (sorry about that) but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway.

Tom absentmindedly stared out of his office window and watched as people walked around the campus. Every now and then his eyes would dart from one faceless person to another as his mind, once again, wandered to her. Ever since that Friday when she slinked into his office and wrapped her plump lips around his cock, she had invaded his thoughts—night and day. And it was even worse now that he had tasted her.

He spent the rest of his Monday evening stroking himself and biting his lips in a feeble attempt to conjure up her delicious savor. Tuesday, much to his annoyance, dragged slowly along; the hours felt like days. When Wednesday finally came around, he awaited his twelve thirty class with as much patience as a small child waiting for Christmas morning.

He tried to maintain his professional composure but it was damn hard to do so. Especially when he would glance over in her direction mid-lecture and try to fight the urge to grab and kiss her. She didn’t make it any easier on him. The way she brought her pen to her mouth and rolled the top of it between her full lips reminded him of how she had kissed—almost lovingly so—the tip of his cock. He had to inhale deeply once or twice so that his anatomy wouldn’t embarrass him whenever he noticed the way she licked her lips while arguing with Gayle Winters during the class discussion. He also resisted the urge to grab a handful of those brown curls when she casually tossed a lock of it over her right shoulder. Not to mention the outfit she was currently wearing—a low cut shirt that displayed her full bosom matched with a short skirt that looked like it was painted on her—was definitely not helping him in the least.

When the class was finally over, they had met up at his apartment and chatted and flirted a little before he gave in to his urges and rested his face between her thighs. He smiled now remembering the way she clawed at the bed and whimpered out “Pro…fess…sor…” before coming around his tongue.

He looked at his watch. 3:38. He had roughly another two hours before he had to leave for his Thursday evening class. He should be using this time constructively instead of thinking about her. There were tests, essays, online discussions, etc. to grade. Plus, he had a few students that decided to just stop coming to class for some reason and he would have to report them to the Dean of Students—or, more aptly, his poor secretary—who would then send them a menacing email informing them to either show up or receive an incomplete (it was too late in the semester to drop the course). Those absentee students weren’t exactly passing his class anyway and it was probably for the best they take the incomplete but he sure as shit didn’t want to risk having them in his class next semester.

This happened twice before—the reporting and subsequent failing of a student who turned right around and took his class again—and both times it ended with them _still_ failing and him trying to explain that it wasn’t personal. “I was just doing my job,” he had told them. “I was only following university protocol.”

He chuckled at his previous strait-laced self. He always followed the rules. Even as a young boy he was a stickler for them. Even in his quintessential rebellious teen years when he broke curfew it would only be by a few minutes. God he must’ve been such a dull shit growing up! It was a wonder he had any friends at all.

But now….

Now, it seemed, he practically tossed protocol and caution out the window. And it was all because of _her_. That beautiful vixen that turned his brain to mush. She was the fresh air to the stuffiness that pervaded his life. It was harder to _not_ give in. His brain constantly warned him to resist but his body… His body _needed_ her. Never in his thirty-three years had he desired someone as badly as he had her. It seemed that he had waited all his life for a reason to break the rules. He had waited for a vice tempting enough to make him want to sin.

He had plenty of offers before her, of course. Many a student had came into his office and tried to flirt with him in hopes of improving their grades; but he refused to give in to them. But she was different. She didn’t need to go to such dramatic measures since she had one of the highest grades in the class. Could it be… that she truly wanted him?

The idea made him laugh. Why would someone so vivacious want a dullard like him?

“Professor…” The soft voice gently pulled him from his thoughts. He turned around and saw Malia standing in the door way. She wore all white which made her chestnut colored skin stand out even more so. She had her book bag slung over one shoulder and she stood with one hip slightly stuck out to support the weight of it. Her top was unbuttoned far enough to display her cleavage and her skirt was so short that it threatened to show her panties. No doubt this attire was for his benefit seeing as the late November temperature called for warmer clothing. But he didn’t dare say anything. Only a fool would question how this lovely creature chose to present herself to him.

Instead he smiled as her skirt fluttered up, allowing him a quick glance at her black boy shorts, when she quickly turn to close the door behind her. She sauntered up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and pulled him down for a kiss. He didn’t hesitate to run his large hands up the back of her skirt and massage the round cheeks of her ass causing her to let out a moan against his lips.

“How did you know I would be here,” he asked after their lips separated.

“You put your office hours on your syllabus, duh,” she playfully responded while tugging at his tie.

He shook his head at his foolishness. “Of course! I don’t know where my mind is.”

“Well, it’s probably focused on the hot girl pressed against you. Besides, I think most of your blood left your brain and went…elsewhere.” She giggled and rocked her hips so she could better feel his erection against her inner thigh.

He gritted his teeth when she did so. “So you just…,” he swallowed hard as she began nibbling on his jaw, “…walked all the way across campus to torture me, Malia?”

She giggled again before saying, “No. I came all this way because I couldn’t wait another day for you to touch me, Professor.” She ran her hands down the front of his shirt; stopping right above his belt. She worked on unbuckling it while continuing, “Did you ever want something so badly, Professor?” She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants. “That it’s all you ever think about?” She freed his cock and began stroking it. He groaned at the feeling of her hand on him. “Do you ever crave something—someone—so badly that you’d risk anything to have it?” She stopped stroking him and licked her lips as she stared into his eyes.

His eyes fell to her lips before locking back on her eyes. He clenched his jaw. It was very dangerous the way she was playing with him. She slowly unbuttoned her shirt; exposing her black bra to him. “Is it worth the risk, Professor?”

That was the question he had been asking himself every day for the last week. The deeper he dug himself into this—whatever this thing between them was—the more he has to lose. If this turned sour, everything he worked so hard for would be put on the line—his career; his reputation. He could push her and the fear of possibly returning to England a disgrace away. Or…

Or he could give in to those lovely brown eyes and those full lips. Would he go back to being the stiffed shirt he’s always been or would he give in to that melodic voice and that curvaceous frame?

 _Damn it all to hell_ , he thought before he crushed his lips against hers. He shoved his hand down into the front of her panties and marveled at how wet she already was. She moaned into his mouth as he hooked two fingers into her and pumped them a few times before removing them and bringing them to his lips and sucking her juices off them.

“Professor,” Malia said nearly breathless as she watched him lick her taste clean off his fingers, “Take me home…”


	5. Come A Little Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll already know what's going down in this chapter. Do I even need to say it?

When Malia had first saw Professor Hiddleston’s name under the “Instructor” header for her class schedule she laughed at it. “Hiddleston…,” she said aloud to herself. “Where the hell is _he_ from with a name like that?” She continued repeating his surname over and over until it no longer sounded strange to her ears. Then she began to play with it. She repeated his name quickly in time to a beat that only she knew and enjoyed the constant tapping of her tongue against the roof of her mouth to sound out the double D’s in his name. She absentmindedly did this so often that, in order to shut her up, one of her older sisters assaulted her with a pillow while helping her move into her dorm.

A few days before class started she decided to check his rating via a “Grade Your Teacher” site one of her sisters told her about. The students had given him mixed reviews on his course work:

 

> _“He’s too strict.”_
> 
> _“He straight up do not play. You come late to class your ass is in trouble!”_
> 
> _“He’s tough—all his tests are essays (ugh!)—but pretty fair. He grades on a curve.”_

However, the one thing most of the critiques had in common were that he was very attractive:

 

> _“This man is so pretty! I took him for nearly ALL my English classes.”_
> 
> _“That accent! That! Accent!”_
> 
> _“The man has an ass like stone. I never paid attention when he turned around. Also, watch out for his eyes!”_

The comments had made her laugh but she paid no further mind to them. That is, at least not until she entered his classroom back in September. He was already in the middle of going over the syllabus and course requirements when she burst into the room with her backpack hanging off one shoulder; the books in her hands falling to the floor in loud thuds; and some of the contents of her purse littering about the floor. She was so embarrassed that if she were white she would have turned beet red. She apologized profusely while trying to pick up her items. He leaned down to help her and when she finally looked him in the eyes she nearly lost her breath.

“Pretty” the student critics had said. “Pretty” was apropos and, yet, somehow, also an understatement. The man was gorgeous. _He’s_ way _too fine to be teaching English,_ she had thought. Even though they were mostly covered by his glasses, those long lashes perfectly framed around those blue eyes were enough to make her swoon. (In fact, she nearly dropped her books again). And the sound of his deep voice as he told her to take a seat…well, that was almost enough to make her want to wrap her arms around him.

“I’m so sorry I was late, Professor,” she had told him at the end of the period. “I got lost.”

She could have kicked herself for it too. She had taken the freshman campus tour the summer before classes began and had promptly forgotten the layout of the large campus (honestly, how was she supposed to remember every building on this continent sized school in two days?). She decided to print off a copy of a map of campus but, in her rush, she had left it behind in her dorm room. She missed her ten o’clock class because she couldn’t find the building and decided to stop and get her books (which took her another hour and a half due to the long lines and less than enthused student workers). She asked an upperclassman where Walker Hall was only to get to the building and realize that her class was in _Walden_ Hall. And now she stood before him looking about as competent as a cat playing the piano.

He waved his hands. “It’s okay. It’s your first day.” He handed her the student roll sheet and reached in his pocket for a pen. “What’s your name,” he asked handing the pen to her.

“Malia. Malia Givens,” she said while scribbling her signature on the sheet.

“Well, Miss Givens, I am always lenient on the first day. But come Wednesday, I fully expect you to be here. On time.” She nodded that she understood before trying to grab her textbooks she had placed on his desk. “Here let me help you with that,” he said grabbing half the pile from her with a groan.

“Oh, thank you!” She sat the books in her hand back down on the desk before readjusting her book bag that was also packed to the brim.

“Not a problem. Though, maybe next time you won’t try to get all your books in one day.”

Malia made a face before replying, “Most of these books are for _your_ class! Maybe next time you won’t assign so much material for a freshman course.” He laughed before saying “touché” and escorting her out of the room.

From that moment on their conversations would only get more cordial. They talked about the usual things at first: their favorite author/work (his: Shakespeare’s _Hamlet_ ; hers: Zora Neale Hurston’s _Their Eyes Were Watching God_ ); favorite show (they both loved _Game of Thrones_ but she rooted for Daenerys Targaryen and he was still hurting from Robb Stark’s death and just didn’t have it in him to get attached to another character); and what type of music they listened to (he was into Jazz musicians like John Coltrane and Thelonious Monk while she was more into hip hop and classic rock).

However, by the time the first month had ended, they had known intimate details about each other lives that, perhaps, would not have normally ever came up in a student/teacher conversation. For instance, he knew that she had dated a guy three years her senior when she was in high school but broke up with him over the summer because she couldn’t put up with “his lying, trifling, bullshitting ass.” She knew that his engagement ended a year ago because he wanted to stay in the states and teach and she wanted to move back to London and get married and start a family as soon as possible.

“You don’t want to have a family,” she had asked him over lunch one day.

“I did! I mean, I do. It’s just…,” he looked away while trying to find the words. He exhaled before turning back to her. “I didn’t want those things with _her_. That sounds terrible.”

“No,” Malia said sweetly. “I get it…You know what you want.” She caressed the back of his hand. “And I think you should always go for what you want, Professor.” She licked her lips before adding, “Don’t you?”

Although she hadn’t meant to, that one little touch mixed with the way she licked her lips had ignited something in him. From that moment on, she noticed a slight change in his behavior. Whenever he thought she wasn’t looking, she would catch him watching her or staring at her breasts; and once she was sure he checked out her ass.

She _relished_ in the attention. She even found herself toying with him to get more of it. She started wearing low cut shirts and laughed to herself when he would try to avoid looking at her chest. When their lunch meetings moved to a quiet grove on campus, she increased her antics. She started simple, at first, with a hug—a sweet, friendly hug—and stifled a laugh at the way his body tensed up under her arms. However, soon he eased into them—his arms gradually wrapped around her back; his face nuzzled into her neck; and she would close her eyes and nearly melt into his warmth.

But she wanted— _needed_ —more.

She had to be very cautious with how she proceeded now. A kiss could turn the situation in either way. Either he would reciprocate and kiss her back or he would scold and push her away.

The kiss she gave him was the soft peck one would give their pre-teenage crush behind the school to let them know you were interested. But the kiss he returned was one of desire; the kind of kiss that set her young body aflame. And when she felt his dick poke against her stomach, she knew that the time for fun and games were over.

That night, she had lain in bed, quietly rubbing tiny circles around her clit while thinking about him. She imagined that he was lying in his own, his hand around his cock—she wondered what it looked like? what it tasted like?—while he stroked himself off to some image he conjured of her. She desperately wanted him to press those thin lips against hers or have those large hands caress every inch of her body. She whispered his name as she came from her fingers. She decided, then and there, that she would do whatever it took to have him.

That Friday afternoon, as she climbed the stairs to the third floor where his office was housed, her body felt alive as her adrenaline rushed through her at the anticipation of what she was about to do. She feared neither the university bylaws nor any consequences as she slinked into his office and sat on the edge of his desk and ran her hands down his lap. She only cared about quenching the desire that burned in her for him. She couldn’t wait for him to act; not with the way he nearly sprinted away from her after his body betrayed him when they had kissed. And the fact that he didn’t push her away or try to stop further proved that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

And she _loved_ the fact that he could be so easily enticed. He would say, “We shouldn’t…,” right before he kissed her or while his fingers were steadily moving in and out of her. “I’m…your professor. There are rules,” he would say before he traced his tongue down her body.

And now…Now he had forsaken everything to be here with her.

“Professor, take me home…” Those words… How could he say no when she was standing before him looking as alluring as she did? He grabbed her wrist and nearly pulled her out of his office (he almost forgot to lock it behind him). He would have told her that he would pick her up behind the grove, like they had done the last two times they rendezvoused, but he was too eager to have her near him. Instead, in front of anyone that might be watching, he escorted her to his car.

He had nearly sped to get her back to his apartment. He wanted to touch her, to taste her so badly that he cursed and growled at the slowly moving vehicles around him. She made matters worse by rubbing his inner thigh as she nibbled at his earlobe. “Malia…Please…,” he said allowing himself to close his eyes at a red light.

“But, Professor…,” she cooed while unzipping his pants and freeing his erection. “You’re just so fucking hot. How can I keep my hands off of you?”

He gritted his teeth as her mouth came down over his cock. He brought his hand to the back of her head and relaxed into the feeling of her bobbing and sucking him. “Yes…,” he said while gently bucking his hips. The sudden honking of a horn from behind him jarred his eyes open. “S-sorry,” he said even though the other driver couldn’t hear him before driving through the green light.

Malia’s mouth was still wrapped around his member when he finally swerved into the parking lot of his apartment building. He turned the car off and leaned his head back as his cock moved in and out of her mouth. He twisted his hands in her curly hair. “Yes…Almost there…,” he said as he pushed her head further down his cock. He bucked his hips faster and she relaxed her jaw and let him fuck her face. She squeezed her thighs together and rocked her hips in hopes of relieving the throbbing between them. He exclaimed out a “F-fuck!” as he came in her throat and, just like she had done the nearly a week ago in his office, she sucked him dry. He let out another swear and gripped the steering wheel with one hand and the headrest of the passenger seat as she did. She lifted up and wiped the corner of her mouth with a smile. He grabbed the collar of her shirt and brought her close for a kiss. He moaned at the taste of his come on her lips.

When they pulled apart, she nuzzled her nose over his while whispering, “I want you, Professor,” against his lips.

He wanted to take her right then and there. He wanted to sit her on his lap and fuck in the front seat; her chest bouncing against the steering wheel while he pounded against that voluptuous round ass of her. Instead, he opened his door and said, “Let’s go.”

He couldn’t keep his hands off her on the elevator ride up to the fourth floor. He kissed her hard on the mouth as he ran his fingers between the folds of her pussy. The elevator stopped at his floor and they both laughed as they pushed past a neighbor (whose face was soured in disgust at the act the elevator doors had opened on) and entered his apartment. Once inside, she jumped on him, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, while planting kisses across his face. He chuckled and carried her to the bedroom.

He tossed her on the bed and they immediately kicked off their shoes and began undressing. He loosened his tie but left it around his neck while he unbuttoned and removed his dress shirt followed by his undershirt and pants. She worked on the buttons of her blouse and, when a couple wouldn’t give, she tugged hard at the fabric sending the buttons flying. Next she unzipped her skirt and slipped it off her round hips and tossed it in a nearby corner.

She smiled at the sight of him standing in front of her in his boxers and rock hard. She ran her foot up his thigh. He grabbed it and placed a delicate kiss on it. He continued to lick and kiss down her leg, then her thigh and when he got to her hip he grabbed the bands of her panties and slowly pulled them off her. He gently bit the flesh on her hip causing her to let out an “Aah…” at the feeling. He then ran his tongue across her lower abdomen and stopping mere inches above her pussy.

He put one leg over his shoulder and bit her inner thigh and she arched her back in response. “No, no, no, Professor…Don’t tease me,” she said while bucking her hips. She wanted his tongue in her; he smiled at her begging for him but he didn’t give in yet. He grabbed her other leg and repeated the action and again she begged for him to fuck her with his tongue and it sounded like music to his ears. He kissed the lips of her pussy twice before running his tongue up her slit causing her let out a shudder. He separated her folds with his index and thumb and immediately began to lick and suck on her clit.

“Mmmm….Professor…,” she called out while his tongue lapped at her pussy. He massaged her thighs as she began rocking her hips against his mouth. He stuck two fingers in her and began to quickly pump then in and out of her. He loved the sound of his fingers slicking in and out of her wetness mixing with her moans. Her toes curled and she came around his fingers. He pulled his fingers out of her and licked them clean of her juices.

He rose and removed his boxers before climbing on top of her. He brought his fingers to her lips and she instantly sucked on them with an “mmmm….” He rolled the tip of his cock against her entrance before looking her in the eyes and asking, “Are you ready?” She nodded “yes” but he could see the apprehension in her eyes and feel her stiffen underneath him. Her nervousness surprised him. Gone was the seductive minx who wielded a strange power over him. In her place was now a timid, trembling young woman. He cupped her face in her hands and pecked her softly on the lips. “Hey, we don’t have to do this now. I’m ready whenever you are.”

“No, I-I’m fine. It’s just…,” she swallowed before continuing, “…don’t hurt me, okay?”

He responded by giving her another kiss—this one more passionate than the last. He sucked on her lips while slowly running his hands down her body. He slipped his fingers between her folds and rubbed her pussy until she relaxed underneath him. He continued kissing her as he slowly entered her. She winced at the feeling of him stretching her. “You okay,” Tom asked. “If it’s too much we can stop.”

“No, no…I’m good. Don’t stop.” She sucked in small breaths as he continued filling her.

“You ready?” She nodded and he kissed her and began stroking into her slowly. She whimpered at the feeling of him inside her. It was definitely not like she imagined it would be. Once the initial minor pain subsided it felt…good. She wrapped an arm around his neck as he rolled his tongue down hers.

“Oh…Fuck…,” he said as he buried his face in her neck and stroked into her faster. She felt better than he had imagined she would—so wet and warm! And that fruity smell—that he still couldn’t place—drove him wild. He had wanted her for so long and now, finally, she was here with him and for the moment everything was right. She was his; and he, hers.

He continued to thrust into her deeper and harder. “Oh my god, Pro…fess…sor,” she called out at the feeling of him hitting that spot within her so perfectly. Her legs instinctively clamped around his waist as he began to fuck her faster. She grabbed the bed covers and arched her back and screamed out “T-thomas!” as she pulsed and clenched around his cock.

He stroked into her a couple more times before he felt his own orgasm building in inside him. He rolled off of her and lay next to her on the bed. He frantically jerked his cock until the hot white fluid spurted onto his stomach. “Shit…,” he breathed out before grabbing the edge of the covers and wiping his come off himself.

He leaned over and pulled Malia close to him; revealing a red spot on the mattress where she had been. Upon seeing her virginal blood, she covered her face in embarrassment. “I’m so sorry,” she said; her voiced muffled by her hands.

He gently removed her hands and kissed her. “It’s okay. I can wash them. And I have more sheets in the closet.” He walked his fingers down her body and smiled at the softness of her skin against his fingertips. “How are you feeling?”

“Great,” she beamed. “Sore. But great.” She leaned in closer to him and he wrapped his arms around her. She rubbed her nose against his before saying, “So…If sex was a class…what would be my grade?”

He laughed. “Are you serious, Malia?”

“Oh, very much so! On an A-F scale, what would I be?”

“I don’t know…I guess…,” he scrunched up his face as if he was deep in thought. “I guess…,” he continued this time clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. He laughed as she shook his shoulders to coax his answer out of him. “Okay, Okay. I’d give you an A.”

“Ooh…Smart guy. A for ‘awesome’.”

“I was thinking more of A for ‘ass’ because you have such a nice one,” he smirked as he grabbed one of her cheeks before smacking it lightly.

“You are an incorrigible mess,” she said before playfully slapping his chest.

He caught her hand in his and chuckled at her comment before kissing her fingertips. “Yes, I am…” He rolled over on top her causing her to let out a giggle at his sudden actions. “And you wouldn’t want me any other way.” Before she could speak, he licked and nibbled at the area where her neck and shoulder met. She closed her eyes and let out a groan of pleasure before wrapping her legs around him and succumbing to his touch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! For now, anyway. There will be more Prof!Tom and Malia to come (ya'll noticed that I made it a series, right?).
> 
> Thank you all for reading, commenting, and leaving kudos. I appreciate each and every one of them!

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a one shot but I decided to expand it into a multi-chapter fic.


End file.
